The Ancient Omen
by Cascore
Summary: When five thousands years pass without the return of Ganondorf or the rise of a new hero, doubt begins to be cast over whether or not the legends of the heroes of Hyrule are true. In the midst of this uncertainty, a new boy in the image of the Hero of Time comes forward, but his arrival is not a welcome one.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Legends tell of a host of heroes hailing from different times across history, all tasked with a similar, enormous goal: to protect the land of Hyrule upon the dawns of the land's most dire hours. Locked in a constant struggle with the fearsome, seemingly immortal Ganondorf, the young men never backed down from their challenges, willing to leave behind their previous lives to stand up to the task. Time and time again, these heroes garbed in green thwarted their eternal nemesis and restored peace to their troubled homes.

It was believed that, although these heroes all existed in different eras, their souls were connected as one, leaving the body of a predecessor and returning to bring life to the next savior when dark energies could be felt looming in the air once again.

Five thousand years have passed without the threat of Ganondorf, who, legends say, was turned to stone when the Hero of Winds plunged the legendary Master Sword into his skull. He has been abandoned at the bottom of the sea for all these millennia.

The tradition of garbing boys in robes of green during their coming-of-age birthday in remembrance of the great heroes had long faded away, for there were rising doubts pertaining to the truths of the tales. Peace had reigned over the new kingdom built from the previously-great sea for so many lifetimes that it was becoming hard to believe such struggles between an alleged young hero and an ever-present evil even existed in the first place.

Ironically, the uneasy discourse between the believers and deniers of the tales began to loom like an ominous cloud over the kingdom that so many claimed the hero fought to save. Social unrest was on the rise. Deniers urged the storytellers to quit spreading the tales and polluting younger generations with unwarranted thoughts of dark times past that may yet come again. They wished to disbelieve that such evil could ever be eternal as the storytellers were wont to include in their myths, or that any such evil could be possible in the first place. The believers of the legends stood firm, however. To them, it was important for their young ones to learn what they believed to be the history of their great kingdom, both the good times and the bad.

In the midst of these debates, the black energies began to rise once again, and in the dead of night, with nary an eye to bear witness, a tall, dark man walked out of the sea.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The ride that day felt longer and more difficult than usual. Despite being one of the more active tasks and one that many wished to be assigned to do, scouting was never the most exhilarating activity in the world, for there rarely was anything that needed to be looked out for. The best the host could ever hope to catch was a stray pack of wild moblins making camp somewhere out in a far corner of their search radius, and even on the rare occasion that that happened it was a simple enough matter forcing them to turn tail and flee. But today was a different sort of day, although not an altogether uncommon one. The knight at the head of the group rode swift and hard, making it a terrible bother for his apprentices to keep pace, and just as quickly as he would break his stallion into a gallop, he would bring it to a dead stop and demand remedy for any situation he felt needed fixing. This ranged from the mundane and the simplistic, like setting right a leaning fence post, to the head-scratchingly bizarre, like climbing to the top of a tree while still garbed in full armor to retrieve a specific acorn that the knight demanded be retrieved. The instant the job was done, the ride would continue, leaving no room for the tasked squire to receive a moment of rest.

Roald, the oldest and byfar the strongest, surest squire of the bunch, understood full well why Sir Barrick was doing this to his wards: their performances during sparring practice the previous day could be best described as akin to a flock of cuccos pecking wildly at one another. Roald had served several years under the wing of Sir Barrick, and one of the knight's favorite, yet least favorite, things to say was, "An act of pure and utter chaos is rewarded with purer, more utter chaos." And so, like the pack of wild fowl they pretended to be yesterday, they were running around seemingly in circles as they performed random and disorganized acts today.

Of the dozen squires under Barrick's command, Roald was the only one who was never commanded to perform some farcical task. The youth, currently nineteen years of age, was tall, able-bodied, and possessed a powerful mind and sense of honor and responsibility. He wore a suit of ringmail that seemed impossibly clean and well-kept underneath his equally spotless royal purple tunic. His brown hair came down and framed a soft, green-eyed face, which was beginning to look rougher these days thanks to the beginnings of a beard growing in. It wasn't a rare occurrence for young women and girls to break into fits of whispers and giggles when they saw him passing by on the streets. He never paid them any mind as he rode by on his mount, but his peers took notice and had taken to spitefully calling him the "Squire Prince," both in jealousy and mocking. Nobody ever dared called him that name to his face, though, for Roald was the only squire of the bunch trained in the ways of the broadsword, and he made a habit of carrying the great and intimidating weapon sheathed across his back. The squires traditionally named their weapons as a sign of connection with their tool, and Roald had named his broadsword "Temperance," a name for a virtue he most highly valued that also happened to describe the instantly calming ability it had on people once they saw the weapon in the vicinity. His fellow squires had taken to calling the sword by a different name: "Royal Rose." "Royal" because it belonged to the Squire Prince and "Rose" because that was the color that would bleed out if you ever found yourself on the wrong side of the blade.

Barrick had commanded Roald to press ahead of the group and seek out a reasonable area near the Lyana River to rest. He was also told to keep an eye out for any oddities or possible threats, but both men knew that chances were slim of Roald returning with any urgent news. And as expected, after a mile of riding, Roald successfully found an ideal resting ground near the river while failing to find any pressing matter to report back to the knight.

Soon enough, Barrick's host was by the river and dismounted. Everyone was tired. Some, like Riebald the Rotund as he was often referred to, were sweating profusely. Those ones who were so inclined stripped to their smallclothes to jump into the cool, refreshing water, thanking Sir Barrick profusely for letting them rest.

"That you are allowed to rest is a mere consequence of tending to the horses," Barrick said. "Our mounts work only half as hard as you eat, Riebald, yet that is an exhaustion I would never wish on my worst enemy."

Sir Barrick allowed the boys to revel in their tomfoolery for a while. He was a large tower of a man, standing near six and a half feet tall, a full head taller than Roald. His age was beginning to show in his features, his black hair appearing salted with streaks of white. His thick mustache bore the same colors, though his eyes remained black as ever. He wore a suit of iron armor, his helmet strapped to the saddle of his stallion. Sheathed in a red scabbard at his waist was a steel sword he had affectionately named "Dancer." He assured anyone who asked why he had chosen that name that they did not want to know the answer.

Eventually, the old knight made his squires discontinue their pollution of the water so the horses may drink without worry of catching the same affliction of insanity that clearly possessed the boys. After the horses drank, Malo, one of the youngest squires and the one usually tasked with caring for the horses, set about feeding them all as the others rested and talked. The sun was hanging low over the horizon and the sky was painted its brilliant array of golds, reds, and purples, signifying that it was finally time to make the return trip home.

The normal social groups formed as the boys capitalized on the moments they were granted to converse. Riebald, ever carrying a snack with him on the scouting rounds, was tearing away at a piece of hard bread, some of which he'd broken off and passed to his closest friend, the squirrely and surprisingly slender Yule. Chainmail and a tunic was standard issue for every squire, and Riebald's were dirty as always. His tunic started as a fairly vibrant and shimmering blue, but weeks of sweat, dirt, and food stains had taken their toll, and he could never be bothered to wash it. His round face carried atop it a short crop of blond hair, an equally yellow beard had already grown in, and his eyes were brown as mud. Yule possessed long black hair that reached down to his shoulders, his eyes were dark pools of black, and he was consistently clean-shaven. He wouldn't be an altogether unattractive young man if he wasn't impossibly skinny. If it wasn't for his height, as he stood just under Riebald's eye line, one would think he was a little boy playing at knighthood in his black tunic. The boys were the same age; both of them were only a year younger than Roald, but neither could succeed in proving they were even a fraction as useful. As reluctant as Roald was to agree with Sir Barrick's criticisms, he couldn't deny that Riebald's eating habits had made him sluggish and unresponsive. And, unfortunately, Riebald's mere presence rubbed off his negative qualities onto Yule. When the two were together, getting them to do much of anything resulted in little more than frustration.

The next oldest boys, four and all aged thirteen to sixteen, made up a second group. Kyt, Bentley, Seto, and Hayden were their names, from oldest to youngest respectively. Unlike Riebald and Yule, it was evident that the group had some desire to learn, but they progressed in training at an aggressively sluggish pace. They were each sloppy in both form and execution with their combat, and though it was commendable that they at least practiced with one another to attempt to better their effectiveness, being inept and studying with someone of equal ineptitude rarely got them very far. Still, Sir Barrick had more hope for them than he could claim to possess for either Yule or Riebald. The quartet was sitting next to the river, their bare feet hanging down into the water as they talked and regained their energy from the strenuous ride.

The next group was the youngest and typically consisted of four but was currently only three strong since Malo was busy with the horses. Malo was barely older than the youngest squire, Alec, Malo being a few weeks farther into the age of ten than his peer. The older two of the group, Ronald, or Ron as he preferred to be called, and Beau were brothers, aged twelve and eleven respectively. As expected, the children were the least experienced of the dozen as far as combat, but they were put to some fair use handling other duties, to their dismay, such as tending to the horses, whetting blades, sewing torn tunics, etc. All of them, except Malo who had taken a particular liking for taking care of the horses, absolutely despised the busywork. When they were first taken into the academy to learn the ways of the knight, their heads swam with ideas of swords glinting in the heat of battle as they fought off hordes of enemies, striking down their adversaries in a fantastic blaze of glory out in the field. Honors would rain down upon them, the king himself would thank them for their service, and the people would adore them. But those dreams never felt more distant than when they were made to do such lowly tasks as scraping the mud off the bottom of the horses' shoes. "A horse with mud on its shoe will be as useful as blade with no hilt. You're doing all of us a great favor," Sir Barrick would always tell them when they were given the menial task. All they ever heard was the rambling of a salty old man who could only feel joy by sucking it out of those around him. At the very least, the younglings did have wooden practice swords, and practice they surely did. Though, with only three of them available for sparring, it quickly devolved into an argument over which two would be allowed to spar, since they probably only had time enough for one round. 

Observing the boys' argument, Roald noticed that one squire was missing, another boy who was still in possession of his wooden sword.

"Sir Barrick, have you seen Link since we stopped to rest?" Roald said. Barrick took a moment to look around. Indeed, the boy was nowhere in sight.

"All of our horses are here at least," Barrick said. "The mute enjoys wandering. He'll turn up eventually. Depending on when that might be, he may or may not wind up walking home tonight."

Roald said nothing. His respect for Sir Barrick made him still his tongue, but he could nonetheless feel the knight was often too harsh with his words. Despite Barrick's insistence to label to the boy as such, Link was not a mute. He was shy to an extreme, probably the shyest person Roald had ever met, and as a result was simply quiet. And it didn't help that he had been cursed with a green tunic given to him by his grandmother in honor of the heroes of legends. In an effort to remain in a neutral position concerning the increasingly animated debate about the legitimacy of the tales of the heroes, boys brought into the academy were allowed to wear any color tunic except green, lest they become a point of consternation in the eyes of the people. It seemed a shame that such a silly rule had to be put in place, but it was ultimately for the better of the squires and the castle itself, for maintaining this completely neutral stance on the matter prevented either party of the debate from pointing at King Hyrule and claiming that he backed one side over the other.

Link's grandmother was furiously insistent on having Link wear his green tunic, though. It was a hard position for the poor boy to find himself in. Despite his meek nature, Link had always dreamed of joining the castle guard and becoming a knight, and he was granted the opportunity to do so, but his grandmother was a firm believer in the legends and tradition, and she wouldn't allow Link to go if he could not bring the green tunic given to him on his twelfth birthday with him. Even Link himself, at the time unknowing of the policy and the controversy surrounding green tunics, pleaded that he be allowed to bring it with him. Sir Barrick almost gave up on the prospect of recruiting the boy, calling the fuss around the green tunic a complete absurdity on all sides, but it was Roald who convinced him to let Link join and keep his garb.

At first, he was glad he could get Link into the academy, but as soon as the very day after Link's recruitment, when the recruitment phase ended, Roald wasn't so sure he'd chosen correctly.

In his tunic, young Link was the very image of the fabled Hero of Time, one of the many heroes who dotted history in the tales. His hair was a darker blond and his eyes were blue as the morning sky. Along with his tunic, his grandmother had given him a small wooden shield that was decorated with a pattern, two red lines that swirled slightly and eventually came together to form a singular swirl that ended near the center of the shield. The grandmother claimed it was a family heirloom that had been around as long as time could remember, and she wanted her grandson to use it until he was strong enough to wield a sturdier shield.

At the end of a recruitment phase, fresh squires were rounded up and walked through Hyrule Castle Town, a tradition that allowed the townspeople to get a look at the future knights and protectors of their land. The people would cheer for the oft-times young recruits, who were typically brought in between the ages of eight and twelve and would devote the remainder of their lives to the service of the castle. Link was in with the same group as Malo, Alec, Ronald, and Beau, and they were lined up from youngest to oldest with Sir Barrick at the head of the group and his senior squire, Roald, at the tail. Being the oldest, Link was directly in front of Roald and the last recruit people would see in the train, and as soon as people did see him, all cheering and words of encouragement came to a sudden halt.

The smile on Link's face as he looked around was replaced with a look of terror when people in the crowd suddenly started asking what he was doing mixed in with the other recruits.

"What is the meaning of this? Has the king gone mad?" the voice of one man called out.

"Is this an omen? Has Ganondorf risen again?!" a woman said this time.

"Get that boy away from us!" yet another voice said, this one's owner being indiscernible in the quickly rising volume of the crowd.

In an instant, all good will and joy had disappeared and been replaced with words of venom and fear. Barrick ordered Roald to protect Link as he hurried the boys off to the castle, for some particularly crazed townspeople started making attempts to grab the boy in green who had begun crying at some point during the ruckus. Roald picked Link up and rushed ahead of Sir Barrick and the other boys, and once everyone was safe within the gates of the castle, the senior squire set the new recruit down. Link immediately collapsed to the ground, consumed with fear and tears. As the other drew closer to him, he grabbed his shield and hid behind it, shaking.

"Leave him be," Barrick told the fresh boys, the ones coming near Link. They seemed more curious of him than anything at the time, but they backed away as Barrick commanded. "You take care of this one," Barrick said to Roald, a particular bite in his voice when he remembered it was Roald who insisted the "omen" be recruited into their ranks. With that, he herded the other boys off, leaving Roald alone to figure out what to do with Link.

It took some time, but Link eventually came out from behind his shield, his eyes red and his cheeks wet with tears. Uncertain of how exactly to handle the situation, Roald decided to ask him if he was okay. The boy gave no vocal response, simply a minute nod of the head, an instance indicative of how Link would continue to act for an uncertain amount of time to come.

From the very beginning, Link was largely outcast by his peers. Most of the other boys his age often chided him, never letting him forget how he cried and cowered on his first day as a recruit, and they blamed him for ruining their parade through the city. Ron, a particularly nasty one, had taken to calling Link "Omen Boy," though rarely in earshot of Roald lest the older boy exact some justice on him in the form of a whipping or hard labor. Sir Barrick didn't seem to mind the name "Omen Boy" as much, though he did toss a particularly harsh word at whoever uttered it. As much as the knight derided his students, he did firmly believe that there needed to exist a unity between them, and ostracizing one would only serve to weaken them all.

This statement was particularly true considering Link's hand was decent when it held a sword. He already had surprising innate talent in the ways of swordplay, but what truly gave him an advantage was his left-handedness. He was the only squire in the host, and one of very few in the entire castle guard, who used his left hand. In sparring practice, this simple change of hand would catch his opponents off-guard, and even though some complained that he could only win so easily because everyone was used to fighting right-handed swordsmen, Barrick was quick to suggest that, had Link been right-handed as well, "he would still have left your entrails on the ground. I wonder what your grave would say. 'Here lies Alec the Immobile. He was never invited to a ball because his heels were glued to the ground.'"

"Malo," Roald said to the young squire who was almost finished with the horses. Malo was a ginger-haired boy whose physical features were as small and gentle as his personality. His head was framed in the bowl cut of his hair and he possessed deep blue eyes that nestled just above a field of freckles spreading across his cheeks. He was the smallest boy of the bunch, so tiny that he was almost lost in his chainmail and rose-colored tunic. Malo stopped what he was doing and looked up at Roald, who knelt down to meet the young squire eye-to-eye. "Have you seen Link?"

"He went off to Farore Hill when the other boys were playing in the river," Malo said.

Roald thanked the boy and stood back up. "I'm going to fetch him. Once you're done with the horses, tell Sir Barrick that I ask for a five minute wait to make my return before you all ride home."

Malo nodded and went back to his task as Roald removed himself from the host and headed for the nearby hill. Farore Hill was located directly in the center of the realm of Hyrule, only a few miles away from such key locations as Dragon Roost Mountain to the north and Windfall Town to the east, and less than a mile from Hyrule Castle Town to the south. It was quite a large hill, and though it was lusciously green and perpetually alive with blooming flowers, there was nothing otherwise remarkable about the location outside of its geographical position in the kingdom. From atop the hill, it was easy to see from one edge of Hyrule to the other. Thankfully, Roald didn't have to travel quite so far to find the missing squire. Link had settled down on an outcrop that faced west toward the sea. The boy was sitting in silence, quietly looking out at the horizon.

"Link, come along," Roald called out. "We must return to the castle town soon."

Over the past few weeks, Link had proven to be an ever obedient squire, doing as was commanded of him without objection. This made it all the more curious when the boy did not so much as stir when Roald summoned him.

"Link," Roald said again, stepping closer to him, "We must go."

Still, Link did not move. His gaze was determinedly fixed on the view before him, and when Roald took a moment to look out at the landscape as well, it was hard to deny that the scene was captivating.

The shoreline of the once-great sea was over a mile away, but simply gazing at it and the immense span of water beyond filled the onlooker with a sense of wonder. There were ships that sailed from Hyrule out to lands unknown to citizens who were not fortunate enough to leave the borders of their homes, and the castle towns and surrounding villages would often get traveling merchant visitors.

Hyrule itself existed in but a corner of the world, isolated from other lands by what was referred to as the once-great sea, the sea that used to cover the vast majority of the world and now had drawn back as land rose from the depths and allowed the once-fallen kingdom of Hyrule to be built again. It was believed that the current Hyrule was only a fraction of the size the kingdom had once been in times past, but there was never any need for expansion. The kingdom was peaceful, and though it sat in isolation, it enjoyed tastes of the outside world thanks to the occasional Goron, Rito, and Zora visitors.

Roald could only imagine what might be going through the boy's mind as he stared out at the sea, but after allowing him a minute or two of continued surveillance, Roald put a hand on Link's shoulder. Link suddenly broke out of his gaze and looked up at Roald. Without Roald needing to say a word, Link got up and began to head back to the river. Roald followed close behind him and the two traveled in silence.

Once they'd gotten back to the river, everyone was gone. Roald looked off toward Hyrule Castle Town and saw the host riding away, Malo and Alec steering along two empty horses. Roald let loose a quiet sigh. It appeared they would be walking back home that night.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The autumn evening was pleasantly cool and quiet in the streets of Hyrule Castle Town. Aside from a bit of rabble spilling out of the local tavern located at the end of a dark alleyway, the citizens who ventured out that night were engaging in their own moonlight trysts, completely encased in their small worlds. Roald and his love, Julia, were among these few couples. Locked arm in arm, the pair slowly strolled across the town's square. Roald had shed his ringmail for a more comfortable white shirt and khakis, and he replaced his royal purple tunic with a deep blue one. Temperance remained across his back.

Julia was the older of the two, though by only a year. However, in spite of her scant twenty years, she had the mind of a woman who might have lived a lifetime or longer. She hid this well though, often engaging in playfulness and constantly possessing an air of levity about her. This youthful attitude better fit her outward appearance. She looked younger than her age. Her head, draped with short, curly brown hair that just grazed her shoulders, barely came to Roald's chest, and her eyes were large and hazel. She held a particular love for bright dresses and was rarely seen in any colors darker than a robin's egg. Tonight, she opted for a soft pink dress with a white pattern of lace sewn around the hem, which ended just below her knees. A white ribbon was tied around her slender waist and came into a bow at the back.

Julia hailed from a line of rich noblemen whose fortunes managed to persist from the days of the Great Sea. Her family owned houses in every town dotted around Hyrule, but their main house rested in Windfall Town to the east. Julia's uncle, Lord Alexander, maintained the family's trade business. He owned a veritable fleet of trading boats that sailed out from a dock on the far end of Windfall Town. Once, when she was younger, Julia was invited to sail aboard one of the trading boats with her uncle and her mother and father. Roald always swore that it was because of that experience that she seemed so much wiser than most her age, though Julia disagreed.

"I'm not any wiser than anyone else," Julia would always say with a smile. "I just tend to be a little ruder, and a little more cunning. It's not my fault people confuse that with wisdom."

The pair arrived at the town gate. Hyrule Castle Town and its surrounding areas had remained peaceful and quiet for so long by then that the gate was typically left open through the night. Guards stood watch at the gate's mouth while sentries patrolled from atop the wall. Archers resided in the pair of towers that flanked the gate and inside another pair of towers at both far ends of the wall. The castle town was nestled into the side of a mountain, a dead volcano that had gone dormant thousands of years ago. The old volcano was steep, and the far side of it led to an almost completely sheer drop into the sea. With the mountain providing sufficient protection for the southern, eastern, and western sides of town, the original builders of the village saw it fit to only build a singular wall to the north, and no successive ruler since then ever saw the need to fortify any further.

Roald and Julia set their destination for Farore Hill for the night. It was a fair distance from town, but Roald felt inclined to make a return after he stood on the west-facing outcrop earlier in the day. As the two passed the pair of gate guards, Roald acknowledged them both. As Julia observed, she noticed Temperance.

"Do you have to bring that sword with you everywhere you go?" she asked, not unhappily, as they made their way out of the village gate. They were still locked arm in arm. "It looks so cumbersome to carry, and it reminds me that you're my Squire Prince instead of simply my prince."

The title didn't disturb Roald at all when it was floating from Julia's lips. "I am no prince, my lady, but soon enough I will be your knight," Roald reminded her with a smile. "A knight must always be ready to protect."

There was a festival approaching within the next few days to celebrate the young Princess Zelda's eleventh birthday, and during the celebratory feast a selection of squires were to be knighted. Roald was among them, and Julia was all too aware.

"Tell me the knight's oath again," Julia said, looking up at him. Roald met her eyes with his own for a moment, then looked forward again. Julia leaned her head against his arm as they walked and he began.

"As a knight of the Hyrule Royal Family, I vow to only speak the truth. To be loyal to my king. To be devoted to the realm. To be charitable, and defend the helpless and the poor. To be brave. To be on time for engagements of arms-"

Julia nudged him and Roald chuckled. This was a game they'd played a dozen times or more. "As a knight of the Hyrule Royal Family, I vow to always protect a lady," he said.

"Any and every lady?" Julia asked.

"Any and every lady, without exception." Roald unlocked his arm from hers and slid his hand down until he was holding the hand of his love. "But there will always be one that I protect exceptionally."

"The princess, right?" Julia said suddenly as she stopped in her tracks, catching Roald off-guard. She laughed at him once she saw his conflicted expression. As he tried to think of a suitable response, she propped up onto her toes and gave him a soft kiss on his struggling lips, rescuing him. Her hand rested on his cheek as she parted from him and looked into his eyes, smiling. "Sir Roald Tillman," she said quietly. "Sir Roald Tillman. Sir Roald Tillman."

"Saying it three times will not make it real any sooner," Roald teased, smiling as well now. Julia lingered for a moment to simply look at him, her smile appearing wan as Roald looked at her, then she lowered herself back to the flats of her feet. Continuing to hold Roald's hand, she brought her other arm around to hug his arm against her chest and she leaned her head against him again. Roald couldn't help but look at her for a moment, perplexed, but Julia silently propelled the both of them forward to resume their walk. She asked Roald how the scouting went that day and his story, footnoted with comments from Julia, filled the air until they reached the hill.

The night sky was brilliant and emblazoned with stars stretching across its deep blackness, some outshining and outsizing others but all existing together in the enormous cosmic display. The moon hid somewhere out there, shying away from showing its face to the people and creatures below, but even though the celestial beauty was not shining, the world was nonetheless lit by its millions of colleagues.

Julia sat down on the soft, cool grass, her legs pressed together and laying out to her side, bent in at the knee. She supported herself with her left arm until Roald dismounted the sword and scabbard from his shoulder and lowered himself to the ground next to her, at which point she turned her back to him and leaned against his side. Roald set down Temperance next to him and leaned against Julia comfortably, the both of them supporting each other as they silently looked up at the stars.

Roald took the moment of silence to let his head swim with visions of knighthood. He would begin taking part in the king's roundtable discussions, most likely as a mere observer at first as he learned the finer points of the meetings. Over time though, he would begin speaking and having some modicum of input, a prospect that excited him even if his words weren't taken with that much weight, for the king had his advisor, his maester, his queen, and his daughter, each of whom had more powerful voices than a hundred knights.

That was but one of the new duties that would be placed upon him though. He would join the castle guard; respond to urgent calls and emergencies; be expected to participate in tournaments and battles should they ever break out; and both recruit and train squires of his own (probably the job he least wished to do, for he had a difficult time relating to and teaching others). With the myriad of new responsibilities that were to be placed upon him, he would be required to live within the castle walls full-time unless he was specifically called to handle a matter outside, and that was when he realized why Julia must have been having a strangely difficult time that night.

As a squire, he already lived in the castle's barracks and spent the majority of his time there, but he lived according to a set schedule that did allow him to leave during the night and make visits. That was how he and Julia managed to persist for the past two years. Like so many other girls, Julia was one who looked and giggled when she saw Roald passing by on his horse with the other boys in Sir Barrick's host on their way out for their day of scouting. He paid her no mind at first, but one day, several days after she first saw him, she did something that no other swooning girl managed to do: she actually approached him.

Roald was a difficult one for a lot of girls to understand. Unlike some of the other squires in his group, who seemed to revel in the attention they got simply for being squires and took advantage of the fact by flirting and boasting endlessly, Roald was not much for speaking in general, much less flirting or bragging. He kept his words brief and polite, and he would never remark on the beauty of anyone, be it his own or that of the girls fawning over him. He was a man very much committed to his duties and training and expressed little interest in much else. Some theorized he was that way because his family was filled with people of the same ilk, but nobody knew his parents or his sister well enough to back up their claims. Others said that the very fact that so little was known of the nature of his family was all the evidence that was needed.

One day, though, after Roald's duties had come to an end and he was on his way to visit his family, Julia spotted him and rushed over.

"Hi," Julia said, a little clumsy as she came to a stop in front of her target. Taken aback, Roald's eyes widened a bit as he looked down at the girl. This was the first time he had actually seen her, her hazel eyes looking at him as her finger came up to hurriedly brush away a fallen lock of her hair. It took a moment for Roald to reply.

"Hello," he said in his usual polite manner, watching the girl curiously. It seemed like Julia hadn't planned out what she would say next. Or perhaps she had and she simply couldn't remember.

"I just…um," she mumbled, growing more flustered and frantic by the second. She wasn't exactly practiced at this. "I think you're very handsome and I just…" she said, her voice growing weaker as she struggled with her words and a fiery blush spread across her cheeks. She looked down, embarrassed. Roald couldn't help but break into a blush himself at the compliment. A moment passed in silent awkwardness before Roald spoke up again.

"What is your name?"

She looked back up at him suddenly, as if her heart had just been jolted with electricity. "Julia," she said quickly. Gathering herself, she said more slowly, "Julia Skylark, of the Skylark family of Windfall."

Roald got down on one knee and bowed his head. Julia's blush only deepened as she observed this. She got a glimpse of the broadsword across Roald's back as he introduced himself. "I am Roald Tillman, squire of Sir Matthew Barrick, knight of the Hyrule Royal Family. It is my pleasure to meet you, Lady Skylark."

"Please, you're very kind," Julia began, moving closer to Roald to help him to his feet, but she quickly stepped back, suddenly afraid of touching him, "but you don't have to kneel for me just because I'm a Skylark." Roald stood up and looked at her, a small smile across his lips.

"I do not kneel because you are a lady of the Skylark family. I kneel because you are a lady."

Julia's heart threatened to beat out of her chest at the remark. Roald offered to escort her to her home and, still extremely flustered, Julia almost denied him, but thought it better to let him do so and fulfill the honor he'd learned to hold above all else. It wasn't a far walk, and it was spent largely in silence until the pair reached Julia's home, where Roald bid his farewell and wished Julia a pleasant night. She returned the pleasantry and the pair split for the night. Roald did not see her again for another week, Julia having been too embarrassed by the encounter to seek him out for a second time. He, however, found himself having a difficult time removing her from his mind when he was allowed time to think such fanciful thoughts.

For as popular as Roald seemed to be with girls and young women, none were ever so bold as to approach him, and he was just as inexperienced at conversing with women as Julia seemed to be inexperienced at talking to men. Roald himself never felt any particularly pressing need to do much communicating with anyone at all outside of his family and his brothers in the barracks, and so he simply wasn't inclined to make an attempt at courting someone. But when Julia came to him, so clumsy and yet so cute because of that, he realized that maybe he was ignoring something he'd never even thought about in the past: romance.

That week he spent without seeing Julia was filled with days of wandering a little more slowly on his way home after his duties were done. He kept his infatuation hidden from his family when he saw them; he put on a good show of masking his disappointment when the girl he kept an eye out for was never spotted. He would go on to perform the same slow wandering when he left home later in the night to return to his bed in the barracks.

On the afternoon of the seventh day, as the scouting party was preparing to head back to town, Roald spotted someone on the incline of Farore Hill, heading up to its summit. It was a young woman carrying a basket and wearing a wide-brimmed hat to shade herself from the sun. Roald's heart jumped, an exhilarating and surprising feeling that rarely visited him. His chest was pounding and he took a moment to avert his eyes from the girl, take a breath, and calm himself down. Once he felt as normal as he anticipated he could, he begged pardon from Sir Barrick to leave the host for a moment to survey the hill. Barrick told him he had five minutes and Roald was off.

To his delight, he found that his gamble had paid off. Atop the hill stood Julia, beautiful and gleaming in the afternoon sun as she knelt down amongst the flowers and picked particularly choice specimens from different breeds. She wore a simple, clean yellow dress that day. Roald stepped forth gingerly, his ringmail lightly clinking and alerting Julia to his presence. When he was roughly a dozen yards away, she looked up at him but hadn't registered just yet who he was.

"Lady Skylark, it is a pleasure to see you again," Roald said politely, kneeling before her as he did seven nights ago.

Julia knelt where she was, frozen, looking at Roald's face once he brought his head up to look back at her. For a moment Roald was afraid something was wrong, but then Julia suddenly stood up, leaving her basket on the ground, and gave a quick, awkward curtsy. "Th-The pleasure is mine," she blurted out, her cheeks flushed. Roald took particular notice that she did not say his name, a strange thing to omit from a greeting courtesy. Perhaps she had forgotten it. The idea that she had made him feel strangely disappointed.

"What business brings you to Farore Hill this fine day?" he asked as he stood, attempting to sound as casual as he could. It may not have worked, for Julia picked up her basket of flowers and turned from him.

"I'm collecting flowers to make a bouquet for my mother," she said as she knelt down to inspect more flowers, making every effort to look away from Roald. "Her birthday is tomorrow," she added. Her voice was slightly more calmed.

"That sounds lovely," Roald said as he looked down at the flowers. "What is her favorite?"

Julia was a little slow to respond. She didn't seem ready for the squire to initiate simple small talk. "Um, well, she actually doesn't have a favorite. As long as it's alive and it smells sweet, she loves any flower equally as much as the next."

Roald searched for a moment or two amongst the myriad of flowers around him, then knelt down and carefully plucked one that particularly stood out to him: a yellow carnation. He stepped over to Julia and asked, "Do you think your mother would like this?"

Without a second thought, Julia instantly looked over, then stood up to better inspect the flower Roald held, her eyes slightly widened. "A carnation. It's beautiful. How did I miss this one?"

"Carnations are my favorite, personally," Roald said, looking at the flower too. Julia's eyes flitted up to look at his, but she quickly focused back on the flower. "They are so robust and brimming over with such vivacity, open and accepting of the world around them, and they seem uncaring of whether or not they loses a petal, for there is always another they can offer and still remain just as beautiful. They portray resilience to me, an ability to persist regardless of how many times it may be stripped."

By then, Julia was focusing solely on Roald, who was still focused on the flower. Eventually, though, he did jet his eyes back up to look at hers. This time, Julia didn't look away.

"Do you always speak so poetically?" she said, a mixture of fascination and slight confusion in her voice. Again, Roald smiled, slightly embarrassed.

"I apologize, my lady. It is how I was taught to speak." Julia suddenly realized what she'd just said and quickly but lightly placed a hand on Roald's, his right hand that was holding the flower. She seemed to do this without thought. Roald could feel his hand tingle on the spot she was touching him, and again his heart fluttered.

"No, no, I'm sorry if that was rude, it's just something I'm not used to," she said. "I think it's very gentlemanly. I like how you speak."

Holding his smile, Roald looked down at the carnation in his hand. "Do you think your mother would like this?" he asked again. Now Julia looked at the flower, then realized she was holding the back of Roald's hand. She swiftly took her hand away and used it to aid her other hand with carrying the basket in the front of her as she took a step back.

"Yes, I think she would," Julia said, looking down and blushing. Roald stepped forward and softly took Julia's right hand off the handle of her basket. He could feel her stiffen at the touch, but he pressed on and brought Julia's hand up to the stem of the carnation. He hoped Julia didn't pick up on the fact that he was holding his breath as he carried out the bold move.

Julia grabbed the stem and Roald brought his hands back to his sides. Julia put the flower in her basket quietly, still refusing to look at Roald. Regardless, the squire went down on bended knee once more and bid his farewells. "I must return to my host before we are set to leave back to Hyrule Castle Town."

He got up and before he could turn to leave, he noticed Julia had looked past him and was watching something down on the plains. "Would that be your host over there?" she asked, pointing. Roald followed her finger and, sure enough, Sir Barrick had rounded up the squires and the lot was riding back home. His unmanned horse was being led away by Yule. Roald took a quick few steps in the direction of his companions, then stopped and sighed, defeated. He could hear giggling coming from behind, though, and he turned to see Julia looking away with a hand over her mouth.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I don't mean to laugh," she said between breaths. "I just, the timing of it all, I don't know why I find this so funny." She began laughing harder. "I really don't mean to laugh!"

Watching her, Roald found himself unable to keep from letting out a chuckle as well. As he was joining her, Julia managed to get her laughter under control and calmed down. "I'm very, very sorry," she said, embarrassment running across her face.

"It is alright, my lady. It was my fault for staying here so long."

"Why did you come up here in the first place?" Julia asked, the question having never occurred to her before then. "Did you see something? Should I be worried?"

"I did see something, Lady Skylark, but I would hope there is no need for worry," Roald said. "I saw you."

Both had become dazed by the comment, the pair simply looking at each other in a state of shock at the brave words that just escaped from Roald's mouth. Now that he was the one doomed to embarrassment, Roald looked down, afraid to see Julia's reaction. However, seemingly emboldened now, Julia spoke.

"Maybe it's better that they left you behind," she said, causing Roald to meet her eyes again. Neither moved an inch, standing several feet from one another. "You hope to be a knight one day, don't you?"

"I do," Roald affirmed, albeit not without some perplexity, wondering about Julia's intentions.

"Isn't one of the knight's oaths to always protect a lady? And you almost abandoned me out here all by myself," Julia teased with a sly smile. Roald recoiled a bit, realizing that she was right.

"My lady, I deeply apologize, I meant no offense," he said, bowing to her stiffly as he cursed himself in his mind. "I simply...forgot."

"Hm. I may forgive you," Julia began, her attitude having suddenly taken a drastic turn; she wore her smile as if she had just won some great battle, not against Roald but perhaps against herself, "if you would behave as a proper knight and see me safely to my home."

Roald straightened from his bow. "It is my duty, and my honor, to act as your escort."

"Good," Julia said as she stepped closer to him. "Protect me," she added more softly as she looked him in the eye and brushed past him, momentarily reaching a hand out to gently graze the ringmail covering his arm. Roald couldn't feel her touch on his bare skin, but what he would have given to experience the sensation again.

Roald caught up to Julia and walked alongside her, pleasantly surprised by her suddenly coquettish personality. Roald's admittance of affection for her must have unlocked some part of her that she couldn't bring herself to expose before, this teasing, playful side that was so tightly restricted only minutes ago. By the time they reached her home, Roald had become completely and undeniably taken with her. He never expected he would fall for a woman like Julia, but neither had he ever met a woman who was quite like her. She made him laugh and smile and feel empowered but humble all at once. Simply put, he enjoyed being with her.

"Thank you for escorting me home, Sir Roald Tillman," Julia said once they'd arrived at her family's manor. Roald smiled. She did remember his name after all.

"I am no Sir, my lady, but to escort you was my honor, and my pleasure," Roald said, bowing to her. As he stood straight, he noticed Julia had come a little closer to him.

"You're as good as any Sir I've ever met," she said, her voice sweet. She suddenly looked away from him for a moment, her face betraying that she wanted to say something more, but despite how easily she talked and joked with Roald on the way home, Julia found herself regressing back to the shy girl she was before. Instead of speaking, she slowly, thoughtfully looked back at Roald, took another step closer to him so they were within inches of one another, pushed herself up onto the balls of her feet and softly kissed him on the cheek, a reward for his services. Roald's cheek stung with pleasure as Julia lowered herself and stepped back, still looking at the squire.

Overcome by the moment, his heart pounding, Roald swiftly but tenderly grabbed Julia's hands. She didn't draw away, her hands calm in his. "Please, my lady, forgive me if this is too forward," he said, stumbling nervously through his words, a rarity for the unusually well-spoken youth, "but I would like to see you again. It would be a great pleasure if I could see you again."

"When? Where?" Julia asked, sounding breathless as she broke her silence, overjoyed and nervous beyond comprehension all at once. Roald paused for a moment to think of an answer.

"At the square the night after tomorrow, after my duty with my fellow squires is done for the day."

"I'll be there." Julia smiled, trying hard to mask her excitement in much the same way Roald struggled to contain his.

Roald thought back on that day as he and Julia silently enjoyed the stars in each other's company. It was hard to believe there was ever a time she was so shy around him. It was also hard to believe that it had truly been two years, and that his journey through squirehood was almost at an end. And he still wondered whether or not the end of that meant the end of _this_, this happiness he had managed to find and fortify over the years.

Just how different would things be in four days' time?

"Roald," Julia said, bringing him out of his own mind. Her voice was urgent and quiet, and she sat up straight, parting herself from her beau. "Someone's coming up the hill."

Wordlessly, Roald grabbed Temperance, stood up, and unsheathed it. Julia silently stood as well and got behind him. Roald could see that the dark figure was holding something that gleamed slightly in the dim night light and he held his sword out with both hands, assuming a defensive stance with the blade angling out from him as he held the hilt with both hands. "Halt!" he commanded. Instantly, the approaching figure stopped in its tracks. "State your name and tell me what it is you carry!"

"My name is Ghim," responded the deep, slightly raspy voice of a man grown. "I am a friend."

Roald could see the shadowy figure lift his free hand into the air, surrendering, while he threw the glinting object he held in his other hand with just enough strength to land at Roald's feet. The figure then raised his now-freed hand into the air as Roald looked down at the object.

"I carry the Master Sword."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was a simple enough task delivering this strange man, Ghim as he called himself, to the castle in secrecy. He was a large being, tall, broadly built, and darkly skinned. His jaw was powerful, his nose large and pointed, but his face was gaunt, the weariness of age etched into all of its features. Wrinkles lined his cheeks and his forehead, and his long white hair splayed down his back in a wild, unkempt mess. His amber eyes told the story of a life long lived, appearing wizened, disturbed, and utterly exhausted due to the accompaniment of the many lines beneath them.

In spite of his aged face, he appeared to be a muscular, incredibly fit man. Bulges could be seen pressing against his clothing, threatening to free themselves of their restraints even as the man stood resting. His garb was simple fair, for he only wore a long-sleeved shirt, slacks, and a pair of worn boots. It was strange to see that all of his garments were black.

Ghim had come along quietly and peacefully. He'd surrendered the sword he carried to Roald, who held it in one hand at the end of a slightly tensed arm. Upon seeing that Ghim would assuredly put up no resistance, Roald had carefully sheathed Temperance and allowed the large man to walk back to town at his side, though he insisted Ghim keep his arms raised. And keep his arms raised the man did. Both Roald and Julia remained wary though. The man was clearly elderly in years, but he had the build of a boar who could easily overpower the young escorts if the mood struck him. Thankfully, it never did.

The guards stationed at the town's gate were as shocked about and wary of the old man and the mysterious glimmering sword he carried as Julia and Roald were. They summoned a guard from within the gate's eastern tower, a portly man by the name of Randy Ralic, to come and join the escort party. He was dressed in a suit of bronze armor and carried a spear, the standard makeup of every guard in the town. Randy walked out ahead of Ghim, Roald and Julia walking behind the man. Thankfully, the night was fairly well-on and most folks had gone off to their homes and climbed into bed. The couple who remained out and about were straggling drunkards who wouldn't remember seeing the traveling group once they'd stumbling into their own houses for the night.

Roald observed Ghim closely as they approached the castle grounds. The man seemed to have a perpetual frown on his face, appearing deadly serious about whatever situation brought him to their presence that night. Once the castle was in sight, a large and grey building thrusting out from the side of the mountain as if it were a natural extension of the volcano, Ghim looked at it and appeared to study it closely. Roald looked over at the castle as well.

The castle appeared bleak and looming in the night sky due to the lack of color gracing its outer walls, but it looked appropriately grand and protective in the day. Roald often felt a sort of comfort when he looked upon the high walls and the cylindrical towers jutted out of the northern corners of the east and west wings. The front garden of the castle, open for the public to visit, was alive with greenery and flower bushes and fountains, benches and street lamps having been supplied for potential visitors. A tiled path coursed throughout this garden, marking a clear point where the dirt road leading from the town ended and where the grounds of the castle began.

The group made their way through the garden and approached the twenty-foot high steel bar gate constructed in front of the castle. Once they reached the location and the guards manning the gate opened it for them, Randy turned to Roald.

"I will escort Lady Skylark back to her home, squire," he said. "You should return to the barracks. It's almost time for curfew."

Roald nodded and the guard turned to begin walking Julia back to her home. Before going, Julia stepped forward and pecked Roald on the cheek. She looked at Ghim for a moment, who was busy continuing to take in the sight of the castle, and then she was off.

The palace was quiet, appropriate for the late hour; the only sound that could be heard was the gate's guards pushing the steel bar door closed. Once the task was done, Peter Rudolph, one of the guards, took over the escort duty. He was a lanky, older individual whose voice possessed a particular slow drawl to it. He always came off as a lackadaisical sort, but one would be hard-pressed to find any evidence of him failing to carry out any given duty once he was tasked to it.

"So what's the story with this one?" Peter asked, seeming to barely register that Ghim was there. Ghim was giving the men around him an equal sort of treatment, still preoccupied with the castle.

"Ghim approached me on Farore Hill carrying this blade," Roald said, holding out the glowing sword. Peter grabbed its hilt and took it from the squire.

"Right pretty," he said, showing it off to his fellow guard, Zion Harthrop. The other man nodded in agreement.

"He called it the 'Master Sword,'" Roald said. Peter instantly froze, looking at the blade in complete stillness for a moment before turning his head to look Roald in the eye.

"Say again?" Roald was taken aback by Peter's sudden change in demeanor. He looked over at Zion, who was also giving him a sort of stunned and suspicious stare.

"The Master Sword," Ghim said without looking at any of the men, his voice firm. His hands were still raised in the air. Both Peter and Zion looked over at him for a moment, then Peter lowered the blade down to his side, his admiration of it discontinuing.

"Well, this oughta be interestin'." He went back to Roald and studied him for a moment, then said, "Head on back to the barracks, squire. Curfew's almost up."

In spite of his curiosity, Roald knew his involvement in the situation was done. With many questions swimming in his mind, he saluted the guards, who gave him a dismissive salute in return, and off to the barracks he headed. As he departed, he could hear Peter saying that he was going to fetch the maester and see what would happen from there. Roald wished he could linger longer, but his trained body and mind set him off on the automatic path to his bed.

The barracks existed off in the western corner of the castle grounds, connected to the edge of the west wing. Like the castle itself, a part of the barracks was built into the mountainside, continuing the aesthetic of a building seeming to naturally emerge out of rock. In front of the barracks existed an open field bounded in by the edge of the castle's gate. In the field existed standing targets for archery practice, wooden dummies for swordplay, and quintains for lancing on horseback. Near the entrance to the barracks was a large, flat circle of dirt in which sparring practice would take place. The horse stable was also located on this side of the grounds, situated in an embedded section of the castle north of the barracks. The soft snoring of the horses could be heard coming from within.

Roald also heard the soft whistle of something speeding through the air, followed by the soft thud of collision. He looked over at the origin point of the finishing sound and found a few arrows sticking out of a target attached to a block of hay several dozen feet away from him. His eyes scanned their way over the possible trajectory line of the arrows and he eventually found Link standing there, nocking another arrow in his bow. Roald watched him as he let the arrow fly and speed through the air, connecting with the target straight and violent.

Roald noticed Link always had a certain liking for archery once he discovered it. The boy had dreams of being a castle guard, but his aptitude with the bow and arrow would easily solidify him a position as a ranger. Not the most exciting job in these times of peace, but one Roald knew would suit Link better than any other.

"Come, Link. Curfew is upon us," Roald said as he approached the boy. Link knew. He ran over to the batch of arrows sticking out of the hay stack and pulled them out hastily. Roald waited for him by the door to their resting place and opened it for him once he came back. After Link stepped inside, Roald paused and looked back where he had just come from. Ghim and the Master Sword intrigued him. He wished to know the full story concerning the both of them, but he knew that such matters did not concern a mere squire. Doing his best to cast his wonderment aside, Roald stepped through the door and laid down to rest for the night.

The following day proceeded as if Hyrule Castle had not been presented with its mysterious visitor. Roald and his fellow squire boys underwent their daily training under Sir Barrick's critical supervision. Today was known as Ineptitude Day, a day every week devoted to the boys practicing whatever field of combat they were weakest in, and a day that was generally reviled. Regardless, Barrick insisted it was an important day so the boys could have at least a modicum of competence in the various areas of combat.

From observing the boys over the past several weeks, Barrick knew where each was lacking. Generally, his answer to that question for most boys was "everything," but he assigned Roald, Riebald, Hayden, and Beau to archery; Yule, Kyt, Link, and Malo to lancing; and Bentley, Seto, Alec, and Ronald to swordplay. As expected, the day was a complete mess. Every one of the boys, with the possible exception of Riebald, came out of the training slightly more skilled than when they entered, but Sir Barrick still distrusted any of them to successfully butcher a blind pig.

They had their lunch, followed by cleaning whatever mess was left in the aftermath of their training, then finished off their day with a scout of the plains. The day persisted at an incredibly normal pace, and Roald couldn't stop himself from feeling a sense of unease. The man from the previous night and the sword he carried almost felt like a dream to him now with how quiet the people around the castle were being about it. Even the guards he came in direct contact with the previous night made no sort of mention of what had happened when he saw them again on the return trip to the castle at the end of the day.

The abnormality finally came when Roald was leaving to visit his family that night. As he approached the castle gate, Peter looked him in the eye and stepped forward, blocking his path. Roald stopped, an eyebrow slightly raised.

"Sorry to stop ya like this, but Maester Qarn asked me to send ya up to the guest chamber in the northern side east wing after your duties for the day were over with," Peter said. "He needs to talk to ya about last night."

At last, something was happening. Peter was a little puzzled to see that Roald hadn't even been taken aback at all about the sudden summons, for the squire quickly, almost eagerly, nodded to him before exiting into the castle.

The interior of Hyrule Castle was a more luxurious sight to behold than its grey outer walls. Mixed black and white marble stone tiled the floor of the large foyer that stood almost as tall as the height of the castle itself, only stopped by a ceiling above which stood the castle's highest tower. From the entrance, a magenta carpet bordered with golden trim was rolled out to, and on top of, a wide set of stairs. On the wall past the height of the stairs rested a portrait of the Hyrule royal family. King Amadeus Hyrule stood on the left, garbed in a cape of rich blue velvet that was clasped together with a golden pin that had the shape of a pair of wings and talons etched into it. A pyramid of three triangles existed in the center of it all. This was the Hylian royal crest, and the centerpiece was known as the Triforce, an ancient emblem that portrayed three key qualities of leadership: courage, wisdom, and strength.

Under his cape, the king wore an equally blue doublet accented with loops and swirls of gold, and his trousers were a deep emerald. His crown was plain gold, curving up into five points atop his sandy, well-groomed hair. He had a beard equally as brown and one could see in the black of his eyes, even in the stillness of a painting, that he was a man filled with joy. His wife, Queen Jacinda Hyrule on the right, matched his happiness with a little smile of her own that rested underneath a small mole on her dimpled cheeks. Her hair was blonde and pulled up into a bun and she looked out with love and softness implanted in her green eyes. Her dress was of a simpler nature than her king's attire, completely purple from neck to toe, sans her long sleeves which were of a shade ever so much lighter than the rest. Across her collarbone was a golden necklace engraved with the same crest that graced King Hyrule's pin.

Finally, the young Princess Zelda Hyrule, three years younger than her current ten, stood between them, her energy bursting from her smile out into the mind of anyone who laid eyes on her. Both parents had a hand on either of her shoulders. She'd inherited her mother's green eyes and her hair was long and dirty blonde. Her attire was brighter, her dress a pale pink, and her necklace, also bearing the royal crest, was forged of pink gold.

Roald took in the portrait as he climbed the stairs, for he found great comfort in it and felt emboldened to see the royal family right there before him on the rare opportunity he was able to enter the castle proper. On either side of the top of the steps were pathways that ringed around the perimeter of the foyer. These paths were hidden by the pair of staircases existing on the outer edge of the second floor that led up to the third story in opposite directions. Both paths and both staircases were carpeted, and Roald took the walkway to the left. There existed three more levels of walkways above the one Roald tread upon, each of them accessible from pairs of staircases that were constructed on opposite ends of the grand hall. Several feet above the fifth and final walkways, a large chandelier hung from the ceiling, aiding the various wall lamps in filling the space with light. Down on the ground floor, two medium-sized fountains flanked the central walkway at the foot of the stairs, and both were segregated behind a small iron fence. If one turned left or right at the center of the hall and departed from the carpeted path, they would reach hallways leading to the east and west wings of the castle. Pairs of guards stood at attention at all entrances and exits: at the front door, the entrances to both halls, and the foot of the staircase. They appeared diligent and quiet, remaining utterly still as Roald walked by.

He exited into the east wing hall, along which there were a couple doors on either side of the hall. The first doors led to the guest chambers and the ones further down were for the guest servant quarters. The northern guest chamber was the only one guarded at the time, and once Roald told the guard why he was there, the man nodded. The guard opened the door and announced that the squire had arrived, then made way for Roald to enter once Maester Qarn asked to let the young man in.

Roald stepped in and the door closed behind him. Before seeing the maester, Roald noticed, to his surprise, that Julia was there too. She was resting on a window seat when she saw him and a smile automatically spread across her lips, though there existed an uncertainty as to whether or not smiling at the moment was appropriate. She wore her most elegant dress that day after receiving the surprise summons, a black bodice tied together in the front with red laces and a long red skirt hemmed with black flower embroidery.

"Welcome, young squire," the maester said kindly, standing from his seat near the room's calmed fireplace and bowing to Roald. Roald returned the courtesy with a deep kneel.

"An honor to meet with you, Maester Qarn," Roald said.

"I apologize; my memory escapes me more and more often lately. Please, remind me of your name?"

"Roald Tillman, my lord."

"A strong name for a strong lad. Please, stand up my boy."

Roald did as commanded and stood. Maester Julius Qarn was a small, elderly, dark-skinned man, barely coming to Roald's chest in his slightly hunched posture. He wore a plain brown robe and a chain linked with various types of metals. He had grown bald years ago, but his eyebrows and his short beard had given way to the whiteness of age. His eyes were a light, comforting shade of blue.

"Have a seat," Qarn said as he retreated back to his chair. Roald removed Temperance from across his back and leaned it against the wall next to the window seat on which he rested. He left a cushion of space between himself and Julia, and they both focused on the old maester.

Once Qarn had situated himself, he spoke. "As you both know, we brought you here today to have a small discussion about the events of last night. Let me first preface our talk with this: do not mention any detail of this happening to anybody who isn't in the room with us right now. This is a matter that must be maintained within the castle walls; we cannot afford to alert the townspeople about what we are doing."

Roald and Julia glanced at one another for a moment, then returned their attention to the maester. "What exactly are we doing?" Julia asked, a little unsure of the words escaping her.

"Investigating," Qarn replied. "Tell me, have either of you been told the stories of the legendary heroes, the succession of boys and young men who came forward and fought a recurring great evil time and time again?" Both Julia and Roald nodded. "Then you know of the Master Sword as well, I presume?" This time, neither of the young couple seemed sure enough to give a response. Qarn closed his eyes for a moment. "Perhaps that is another facet of the legend that has faded into obscurity." He looked back at the two.

"One consistency in the tale of the heroes is the appearance of the Master Sword," Qarn began. "Otherwise known as 'The Blade of Evil's Bane,' the Master Sword is the only weapon that can harm Ganondorf, the powerful man from the ancient Gerudo tribe who is considered to be a timeless evil. Throughout history, according to the legends, the Master Sword has been responsible for defeating and sealing away Ganondorf.

"There are two reasons we are in a state of alarm over the appearance of this man and his sword. The last boy to possess the Master Sword was the Hero of Winds, who is said to have used it to turn Ganondorf to stone five thousand years ago. This happened deep underneath the sea, where the ancient ruins of an old Hyrule are said to exist. To have this man suddenly appear with the Master Sword in hand is an oddity most queer. How could he ever have acquired it if it was sealed in stone at the bottom of the sea?

"This raises our next alarm: our mystery man, Ghim, looks strikingly similar to depictions of Ganondorf. You see, Ganondorf was a man of the Gerudo tribe, a tribe from which Ghim has already admitted he hails from. Gerudo only bear one male child every one hundred years. To combat this severe imbalance of suitable partners within their own race, Gerudo women would often seek out human men as mates and partners, and, over time, humans and Gerudos began to look much the same. Today, telling the two races apart is no simple task. Ghim looks very distinctly like an ancient Gerudo though. His facial features are larger and more pointed, and he is very physically overbearing, especially for a man who appears to be somewhere in the neighborhood of my own age."

Both Julia and Roald bore slightly contorted faces as they listened to Qarn go on. "So . . . are you saying that there's some suspicion that Ghim might be Ganondorf?" Julia asked. Even as she said the words, she couldn't bring herself to believe that the idea could possibly be true.

"There is truly no other answer we can come up with," Qarn said, his voice possessing a sense of understanding Julia's difficulty to believe the idea. "That is the only way we can figure out how all the pieces fit together. But we find ourselves trapped in yet another quandary."

"We don't know why Ghim, if he truly is Ganondorf, would not only peacefully deliver the Master Sword directly to us, but also admit to being a part of a tribe that has not born any men of his ilk in millennia," Roald said. Maester Qarn nodded.

"And there is our problem," Qarn said. "We've questioned Ghim about everything, but none of his answers helped clear any of the mud out of the waters. No matter how often we ask him, he claims that he does not remember where or how he found the Master Sword. He simply had it. When questioned about why he brought it here, he says that the sword itself guided him to Hyrule. We asked if he sailed here and he claimed to have no boat. He doesn't seem to remember a thing. As far as we can tell, he may as well have been born yesterday."

"That's so weird," Julia said, her voice wispy as she tried her hardest to figure out what was going on. "And really annoying. Amnesiac mystery men should be saved for stories. Wait." Julia suddenly looked over at Roald, a spark in her eye. "Do you think all that fuss that was made about Link could actually be true?"

"Link?" Maester Qarn said, unaware of the controversial young squire.

Roald had forgotten about Link. "He is a new squire we recruited but recently, my lord," he said. "He bears an uncanny resemblance to the boys in the legends who defeated Ganondorf in the past. He joined our ranks wearing a green tunic, and his appearance upset a number of townspeople."

"I see. They are superstitious," Qarn said, looking downward for a moment. "So there is another piece of the puzzle set before us. It is said that when the great evil returns, the hero reincarnates himself as well. The evidence becomes more and more damning by the minute." He brought his gaze back up and looked at Roald. "Roald, may I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course, my lord."

"See if you can retrieve this Link for me. I would like to see him with my own eyes."

Roald stood and bowed before departing from the room. Qarn and Julia whiled away the time with less dire conversation about the princess's birthday three days away. Julia admitted to being both excited and anxious about the entire event. Knowing Roald would be a knight from that day forward weighed heavily on her mind.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to see him anymore," Julia said, realizing how selfish she must have sounded but not particularly caring. "We already have such little time to spend together now. How are we going to even maintain that much after he becomes a knight?"

"If I've learned one thing in my many years, child, it's that love will find a way." Qarn couldn't help but chuckle at his own sentiment and Julia gave a small smile of her own. "I know that must sound fanciful and hackneyed, but I've lived to bear witness to its truth. You'll see. If you are truly important to one another, his knighthood will not hinder your love in the slightest."

Even if Qarn was only trying to make her feel better about her situation, Julia couldn't help but feel grateful for the comforting words. She would simply have to wait and see what the future held for her.

Roald made his return minutes later. He entered the room with Link walking shyly behind him, the young squire still wearing his green tunic. As the door was closed behind him, Link knelt in the presence of Maester Qarn, but no honors or words of courtesy came forth from him. Everyone watched him expectantly, waiting for him to speak, but instead he stood up and looked around at them all, appearing confused and fairly uncomfortable. Mercifully, Qarn spoke up and broke the silence.

"Hello, my boy. So, you are Link?" Link nodded and Qarn smiled at him. "A pleasure to meet you. I apologize for summoning you tonight; I'm sure it was not something you expected. But no need to worry, I simply wanted to meet you. It is helpful for me to know the names and faces of those who will become the future protectors of our kingdom." The kind tale served to ease Link's fears. The boy allowed himself a meek smile, one that Qarn was relieved to see.

"Thank you for making the trip, young squire," the maester said. "You may take your leave. Enjoy your night."

Link gave the old man a bow and saw himself out the door. The three remaining occupants in the room watched him go. Once the door was closed, Qarn spoke again.

"Uncanny," he said, partially to himself. "You did not lie. The boy is the very image of the heroes reincarnate." He looked over at Roald. "I trust you didn't tell him what we were talking about?"

"I did not, my lord," Roald said. "I simply retrieved him as you asked."

"Good good, no reason to worry the poor boy." Qarn lowered his gaze again now, not focusing on anything in particular. "It's hard to believe that after all this time Ganondorf may have truly made a return, but it is equally difficult to believe that these occurrences are simple coincidence." Now he looked back at his two visitors. "I reiterate to you both, it is vitally important that we do not let information about the current goings-on escape into the general public. On the surface there appears to be a sense of peace and ease amongst our people, but if any of this is exposed to them, chaos can erupt through the façade in an instant."

"I fear for Link's safety should that ever happen," Roald said thoughtfully. Qarn looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "When we did our new squires' march through the town, the people made a large commotion once they laid eyes upon Link. Some threatened him and tried to grab him while other accused him of being an omen, a sign of the return of the great evil of the legends." Qarn once again lowered his gaze, his heart heavy at the news.

"I see," he muttered. A few seconds passed in silence before he looked up again at both Julia and Roald. "Will the both of you accept a duty if I set one upon you? A duty that may prove to be of great import and great difficulty in times to come should you ever need to carry it out?"

Roald turned his gaze over to Julia, who looked back at him. With a smile, she nodded to her knight, and Roald nodded to Qarn.

"Protect Link," Qarn said. "See that he comes to no harm should the worst transpire. I can only pray that these happenings are not truly a foretelling of dark times to come, but if they are, it is of vital importance that we protect the boy that fate has chosen to be our hero."


End file.
